


Bot Battle Overlord

by fiordilatte



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: 3D Printers, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sass, broship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiordilatte/pseuds/fiordilatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro has an all-consuming obsession with 3D printers that cost him thousands of dollars.  Which, you know, isn’t a problem, since he’s in such a lucrative line of work.  Tadashi would beg to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Try or Bust.txt

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving some stuff over from FFN! My favourite character is Hiro's 3D printer ;)

At fourteen years old (and a hundred and forty-seven days, though really, only nerds counted days), Hiro Hamada felt perfectly entitled and suited to do his brother’s homework for him. Out of some weird obligation to be an annoying prodigy of a younger sibling, or whatever.

Indeed, on one particular Friday night - which, in the Hamada household, was obviously homework night - Hiro was soldering battle-legal arm cannons to a prototype robot, and Tadashi was working on a new tech assignment. Hiro didn’t have friends, and any that Tadashi had were all tryhards who basically lived at school, so Aunt Cass had never bothered to ask them why their social lives were so nonexistent.

He kicked off from the garage wall and proceeded to roll his chair to the next desk over. Hiro glanced at his brother’s robotics assignment, soldered some more, tightened a few screws, then said, with a loud, exasperated sigh: “Tadashi. That’s completely wrong.”

Said brother jolted up from his hunched position at the study table, and Hiro noticed his sibling’s bloodshot eyes. The prodigy quirked an eyebrow.

Tadashi stretched his stiff arms out, then turned to face Hiro. “I’ve been working on this stuff for months, I think I know a little more about motion sense robotics than you do.” A pause. “I hope. Given that it's my major.”

“Sure,” said Hiro, his voice hinging on a patronizing laugh, “but if you’re trying to be one hundred percent accurate, why are your variances so high?”

“In what universe is fifteen decimal places not accurate enough?” Tadashi shot back defensively.

The younger Hamada made a face. “Well that, plus I just ran a sim on the other computer over there for you to check, at the peak level of activity, you know, when it actually matters ’cause _who cares_ at that puny tier that you’re testing - no offence - and your entire formula gets totally screwed up! So it's not just due to decimal points, but the entire basis of your calculation is faulty. Now, I’d fix it by…”

Tadashi gave him a look that he took to probably be, ‘shut up Hiro, I can do my own damn formulas,’ which was fair enough, except it would’ve taken his brother at least another hour to figure out. Because Tadashi still wrote his calculations down in notebooks, which were practically archaic. Hiro didn’t like how messy notebooks got, with all the crossed out ideas and smudged writing - for him, everything had to be done electronically. As a result, he’d built a tablet PC to his own specs and kept all his data backed up on various clouds. Like a normal person. Who was not at all a nerd. After all, twenty-four gigs of RAM and three virtual machines weren’t excessive or anything.

“Whoa, slow down,” said Tadashi, who was now grudgingly transcribing Hiro’s solution in messy shorthand. “My hand is going to cramp if you talk so fast.”

Hiro rolled his eyes, and rested his canvas-clad feet on the closest computer tower. “That's ’cause notebooks are for losers, Tadashi. Remember the rules! We promised, in the solidarity of the Hamada brotherhood!” He pointed an accusing finger at Tadashi's dog-eared notebook, then motioned smugly to his own pristine tablet. “Voice to text is a beautiful thing.”

“Dude, do you not remember rule 452? Hamada brothers don’t judge notebooks by their covers.”

“Please, that was overridden by the corrective clause I added immediately following.”

“Our rules have amendments now?” His brother sounded incredulous.

“Uh yeah, rules are serious business. An inventor’s gotta look cool, or else what’s the point? Anyway, that’s the solution, so have fun being a lame nerd. I just couldn’t watch you struggle over it any longer.”

Tadashi’s eyes flicked down to look at what he’d written, then came back up to meet Hiro’s. He didn’t look very convinced. “But how did you get the answer?”

“I just told you! Like eighteen seconds ago!” Hiro gestured indignantly with his soldering gun, which was still glowing orange at three hundred degrees Celsius.

His brother frowned. “You didn’t show any of your work, Hiro.”

“Huh?” He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, show my work?”

Tadashi massaged his forehead. “Right, I keep forgetting that your entire high school life involved skipping class and showing up late for exams. Never mind.”

It was true. Hiro never had to show his work, because he never had to think about it. If there was a problem, he just intrinsically knew the answer. School was pointless, and bots had always been far more entertaining. 4.0 GPAs were a joke.

“So anyway.” Hiro gave his brother an angelic smile as he cradled the newly finished bot in his lap. “Guess where I’m going now? Hacked onto the list for the prefecture invitational.”

The taller Hamada ( _damn_ that five year age gap) pulled the brim of his baseball cap over his eyes. “I really don’t get how you can call me a nerd when you’re the one who hangs out with a bunch of bot fight enthusiasts and plays video games all day.”

“I’m not a nerd,” Hiro scoffed, crossing his arms in a decidedly not nerdy fashion. “Nerds don’t wear cargo pants.” This was, of course, infallible scientific logic, so take that, Tadashi. He absentmindedly keyed in a few combos on his bot controller, watching his prototype decimate a table with a delicate balance of explosive firepower and brute force. Hiro took a contemplative sip of his extra-carbonated soda. “Hmm. Might need to add a few handicaps, otherwise this will be way too easy. Hate it when I piss everyone off by winning too much. But these cannons are super sweet. What do you think?”

Tadashi, unfortunately, did not seem particularly thrilled by the fact that Hiro was destroying furniture and correcting his homework for him. Tadashi Hamada was one of those people who actually had to study in order to fully master a concept. Hiro just thought it was weird, because the answers were always so glaringly obvious.

He spun around in his chair and stuck his tongue out. “Look, I figured out your dumb formula, least you could do is take me to the fight. I need cash so I can afford another 3D printer. That thing is so useful. So can you -”

"I'm not taking you anywhere," his brother said, with an exclusive elder sibling finality that was really not helping the bot battle cause. “I know I can’t stop you… yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy, either!”

“Fine, I’ll take the train,” Hiro grumbled, jumping to his feet and stuffing the bot into his hoodie pocket. He unplugged his fight pad from its charging station and snapped it back into its standard configuration. “Which means I have to go right now. See ya later.”

“So what time am I picking you up?” Tadashi called over his shoulder, as Hiro sprinted out of the garage.

He stopped in his tracks, biting back a smile. What a pushover. “Whenever you finish your homework, duh.”


	2. How to Break the Law.pdf

Downtown San Fransokyo was breathtaking at night. All the buildings flashed their colourful neon lights, and the dark streets were illuminated in iridescent rainbows. Naturally, the underground scene was a little less pretty, hidden in the back alleys behind pachinko parlours and cheap noodle restaurants. A different kind of light shone. It was the glint of metal on metal, of flying sparks and cold, hard cash. And Hiro loved it. He thrived on the chaos and spontaneity, the sheer destruction and triumph that came with obliterating his opposition.

Tonight’s big event was being hosted in one of the more ‘well-known’ underground establishments, at a place that Hiro had frequented as a spectator before his career had taken off. It had previously been a casino, but was now home to a large gangster syndicate and its various illicit activities. They weren’t quite in a red light district, though there were a few host clubs scattered along the block as well as several bars, which left the distinct impression that it wasn’t the most wholesome of neighbourhoods. That didn’t deter him. Bot fights took precedence.

As Hiro stepped off the train and began to make his way toward the casino, he felt a vibration in one of his numerous pockets. He withdrew his cellphone, making a face when he saw that it was a text from Tadashi. He’d only been gone for fifteen minutes - talk about overprotective.

[[Call me if anything happens. You know I planted five tracking devices on you, right?]]

Another text followed immediately afterward, which was comprised of a solid paragraph of obnoxiously cheerful smiley faces.

Hiro blinked. What. The. Hell. He muttered a few choice words and jammed his homemade headset on. “Call Tadashi the Nerd,” he snarled into the microphone.

“Oh hey, Hiro.” Tadashi sounded especially smug tonight. “Anything interesting happen yet?”

Hiro didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “Explain,” he said stiffly. He couldn’t believe that he’d underestimated his brother. Not so much of a pushover after all. How could he have been such a fool? More importantly, _where_ had he been bugged, exactly?

A low chuckle on the other end, which would’ve sounded absolutely sinister if Tadashi weren’t, well, his very kind and loving brother. “Remember how crunchy those jellybeans were? There were actually GPS chips embedded in them.”

What a liar. He made an exaggerated gasping sound, feigning shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“You sure about that?”

Hiro snorted. “Come on, spill.”

“Okay, fine,” Tadashi relented, with a little laugh. “I was kidding about that one, but I do have five trackers, and I do know exactly where you are, little brother.”

“And that’s not creepy at all, huh?” he quipped, walking at a brisk pace to the venue of the night. Just a few more blocks.

“Nope, just goes to show how caring I am! Got a tab for all my GPS devices on one screen, SFIT research on the other. Pretty good start to the weekend.”

“Ahh,” said Hiro, not one to let his brother outsmart him, “so I’m guessing there’s one in my phone, obviously. One in my… bot? Then one in my fight pad, which leaves two more. Uh, my wallet?” He pinched his fingers along the hem of his sweater, feeling for foreign objects. “And my hoodie - or maybe my chucks. Basically all the things you know I won’t ditch. Nice. Man, you suck.”

Hiro could just picture the big, self-satisfied smile on Tadashi’s face, and he giggled in spite of himself. Of course, he could easily disable the trackers with a small electromagnetic pulse, but it was kind of cool to know that his brother had his back, no matter what crazy stunts he pulled. But five? Really? Well, at least Tadashi was honest about it.

“You better stay safe,” Tadashi said, his voice veering toward a serious edge, “or I’ll kill you, got it? If anything happens, I’m dragging you back home.”

“You’re such a dork.” His voice grew more excited as he neared his destination, and a low thrum of anticipation stirred in his core. “Just a sec.” Hiro glanced down the alley, checked both ways for cops, then turned onto the side street.

* * *

The casino was run down and unsurprisingly filthy, but it hummed with life all the same. Despite the fact that the venue was poorly lit and the carpeting was suspiciously sticky, there was something about the energy that made it vibrant and irresistible to the young bot fighter. Even though he knew his wins were practically guaranteed, it didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. It was the thrill he got from breaking all the rules.

A dark-haired woman sat in the dimly lit reception area, playing video games and smoking. “You’re just in time,” she said, looking up as he entered. “You on the list?”

“Yeah, I’m Hiro Hamada.” He smiled confidently. He’d hacked into the system the night before and secured a last minute spot by overriding someone else’s handle. It was what they got for not inviting him in the first place.

She scanned the roster and checked his name off, then peered at him curiously. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Isn’t this getting kind of redundant?” Hiro asked. They asked him that every time! He set his jaw defiantly. “I brought the cash, I get to fight.” Hiro reached into yet another pocket and produced a wad of crisp twenties. The bills were neatly ironed and alligator clipped together, almost like they were fresh from the bank.

The woman gave him an amused glance and nodded, waving him in past the reception counter. “Good luck, then.”

He bounded down the creaking stairs and made his way to the basement’s fighting arena. He didn’t need luck.

* * *

The whole not having friends thing meant that Tadashi was usually on the receiving end of Hiro’s commentary at illegal gatherings. Who else was he going to talk to about it, besides the person who disapproved the most?

“Oh man, it’s my turn next. Someone’s gonna get wrecked tonight and he is… twenty-seven years old. So,” he struggled for the right words, “like, not me.”

Even over the phone, his brother did not seem impressed. “There has to have been a better way for you to phrase that. So did change your mind yet? Want to come home now?”

“Shut up,” Hiro said into the headset, but a manic grin spread slowly across his face as he sized up his first opponent. “Cannonbot is going to have a field day.”

“Cannonbot? You seriously named it Cannonbot. Hiro, you - you can’t just tack ‘bot’ to the end of everything and say that it’s a name!”

“Sure I can,” he responded, unfazed. “Megabot, Cannonbot, Swordbot, Sushi-chef-bot. Does it matter if I’m gonna win anyways? I mean, one time I won with a bot whose sole purpose was to chuck sushi at the opposition.”

No response. In the background, Hiro could hear what sounded like furious typing. “Sorry, what was that?” said Tadashi. “Some people are doing homework here.”

“Gee, how fascinating. Did you at least remember to include the updated torque values?” A sharp intake of breath. Then: “Oh my God! What is that? This isn’t what I signed up for!”

Tadashi reacted immediately. “Hiro!” he shouted into the phone, frantic worry colouring his voice. “Are you okay?! I’ll be there in five minutes, just please hold on - ”

“What is this terrible piece of trash?” Hiro stared at his opponent’s bot and gaped openly. “I thought this tourney was for the big leagues.”

The fourteen year old snickered as his brother’s strained voice blared in his ear.

“Why can’t you just behave yourself? You are so unbelievable.”

“Don’t worry, bro. This _is_ how you behave at a bot fight.” He switched off the headset and flashed a friendly thumbs up to his bemused opponent. Game on.

* * *

“What the heck do you mean, team battle?” he said flatly. Hiro gripped the fight pad loosely in one hand, and rested his cheek against the palm of the other. “That’s news to me.” They were on round fifteen, and he’d progressed undefeated without taking a single hit. Ordinarily he’d play his opponents and act like he was inexperienced, but that trick got old in a tournament.

He was facing off against a tag team who went by the names of Mariko and Krista. They were fairly successful in the bot fighting crowd; Hiro knew that they typically took a very aggressive stance and that their matches always ended quickly.

Mariko tossed her green-streaked hair and gave him a condescending look. “If you don’t have a partner, you should just forfeit, kid. Get out of here before you get your ass kicked. Rounds fifteen through eighteen are team matches, then we split off again. Didn’t you read the rules?”

Uh, nope. Since when did bot fights have legitimate rules, let alone such arbitrary ones?

“Look,” said Hiro, his tone breezy and carefree, “how about we just double down and I take you both on? Doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t need to hide behind someone else’s bot. I work alone.” He pulled another roll of bills from the depths of his hoodie. He had to bait them into betting more. Hiro was so close to getting his printer, he could practically smell the plastic filaments. “Come on,” he challenged, offering the money out. “You wouldn’t lose to a little boy, would you?”

His opponents glanced sidelong at each other, then nodded.

“Don’t cry when you lose,” the shorter girl, Krista, said, gritting her teeth. She dug into her purse and pulled out a fistful of cash, which she tossed into the betting pot.

“Can’t promise anything!”

Mariko and Krista were fast and well-coordinated, but easy enough to read. He fired a cannon shot, forcing his opponents to try to evade the attack. However, Mariko miscalculated, and drove her bot straight into her partner's. The resulting crash spelled an easy victory.

From there it was just dodge, dodge, counter, then _punish with an unbreakable combo from hell_. Cannonbot homed in on the other robots, projectiles meeting little to no resistance as they tore through the soft metal alloys that his opposition seemed to favour.

Hiro yawned. “You guys are so predictable, it’s not even a little bit funny.”

Next round.

* * *

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” his final opponent asked, to the jeering laughter of several spectators. His name was Hibiki, and he was kind of a dick. Hibiki’s bot was about the same size as Hiro’s, painted black with electric blue stripes. It boasted circular saw blades and twisted cutlasses, and had certainly destroyed its fair share of competitors. Not for much longer, though.

“Oh no, what ever shall I do? My bedtime is in…” he pretended to check a nonexistent watch, “ten minutes, so let’s finish this up.”

Hiro extended his fight pad, revealing a touch-enabled command screen that went beyond the scope of the standard XABY layout. Unorthodox, but still totally battle legal. Everything was pretty much a go in a bot fight, though. As long as his bot didn’t have concealed weaponry or self destruct mechanisms, it was fine. The bottom line was, if he didn’t make the venue explode, he was in the clear. (He’d done that once. It had cost him. Tadashi had been mad at him for a month, and Aunt Cass had managed to consume an entire tray of doughnuts out of stress. The bail fee hadn't been pretty, either.)

The boy set his bot down in the centre of the ring, then sauntered over to his designated corner and sat down without further ceremony. “Cannonbot, time to destroy!”

“What kind of stupid name is that?” the older man demanded. “Of all the the things to half ass, your bot’s name shouldn’t be one of them. Don’t you have any pride?”

Hiro shrugged, nonplussed. Crap, maybe Tadashi had a point there. “Um, ‘Mini Hibiki’ isn’t exactly groundbreaking, either? Fair enough though,” he acknowledged, “I’ll work on my name game next time.” He bared his teeth in an unsettlingly adorable smile. “But for now, I’ll crush you.”

* * *

It was four in the morning by the time Hiro finished his one-sided annihilation of the entire prefecture’s star bot fighters. The venue was a mess of scrap parts, a veritable graveyard of shattered yakuza dreams.

He was counting his money and sorting the bills into neat piles when his brother arrived on site. Even from the corner of his eye, Hiro could recognize that dorky cardigan and baseball cap combo anywhere.

“Hey Tadashi!” Hiro greeted casually, as he saw his brother duck inside, presumably to pick him up. Which was unnecessary, because who needed a chaperone at the wise old age of fourteen?

“You stupid kid!” One of his earlier bot fight victims was approaching, face set in an enraged scowl. Hiro felt a twinge of discomfort creep along his spine, but he steeled himself. He could handle it.

“Don’t touch him!” Tadashi snapped, darting over to stand in between them before anything could happen. Tadashi, at six feet of nerdiness and freaking fashion sense, could be very intimidating when he wanted to. “We’re leaving now,” his brother ordered, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders and all but shoving him up the stairs and out of the building. Anything to avoid taking part in a gangster altercation.

It was probably awful that this was even a routine, but Hiro was positively incorrigible and, loath as his brother was to admit it, Tadashi was a bit of an enabler. Not by choice, as he had made so painfully clear to Hiro on dozens of occasions, but because it was impossible to argue with the younger boy. Hiro would always find a loophole to every argument, or he’d just run off on his own accord and wreak havoc wherever he pleased.

It always boiled down to Tadashi being unable to let his kid brother wander around downtown by himself. Hence, GPS trackers and constant surveillance, apparently. Hiro simultaneously loved and resented that. It wasn’t like he went to the fights without knowing about the consequences, although his small size was usually a cause for concern when things got violent.

Still. He always came prepared. With pepper spray.

“Aw, no scooter tonight?” Hiro made sure his disappointment was clear. He’d really been looking forward to that, maybe even more than the fight itself.

His brother glared at him. “Not after I found out you added four turbos to it, are you insane? We’re taking the train, genius. ”

“I just wanted you to be a real San Fransokyo drift hero,” he said sweetly, dark eyes wide and innocent.

“That’s GoGo’s job, not mine!” Tadashi protested, smacking a hand to his forehead.

“Wait, who’s that?” Hiro sometimes forgot that Tadashi had friends (social life was still a relatively moot point, however). What sort of crazy people was his brother hanging out - er, studying - with?

Tadashi smirked. “Someone super cool that you’ll never get to meet, because you don’t go to school!”

He gave his brother a dirty look, and stomped ahead. “Yeah, nice try. It’s gonna take a little more effort than that to convince me to go there.”

The elder Hamada rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I think she was in a bosozoku gang before. That’s cool, right? In a scary illegal way? See, you already have something in common.”

Hiro almost choked on his laughter. “Did you just hear yourself? An ex bosozoku gang member named GoGo, who is also a drift hero, now attends nerd school with my brother. I’m not dumb.”

They made their way onto the train, Hiro simply plopping onto a seat while Tadashi took a slightly more dignified pose.

“Hey, aniki?” he murmured, drowsiness slipping into his words.

Tadashi glanced at him, his expression softening. “Yeah?”

“…Thanks.” His eyelids drooped shut before he could say anything else, and Hiro fell asleep on his brother’s shoulder as they took the first train back home.

The last thing he heard before nodding off completely was Tadashi muttering, “This is the last time, I swear to _God_ ,” as he tucked him into bed. Tadashi sighed and bundled the covers up so the younger Hamada was settled in snugly, then flicked him on the nose. “Bonehead of all boneheads.”

Hiro dreamed of printers, and all the glorious giant bipedal mecha bots that he could build with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And lmao yes Hiro's controller is literally a Wii U gamepad I SWEAR


End file.
